The struggle of the few
by vampireatdusk
Summary: Albus and Harry never found out about horcruxes. As a result, the war is still being fought, the resistance known as the Marauders are fighting back, but the shadow of betrayal lingers at every turn. Can Harry find in himself to defeat Voldemort, even when a certain yougn doctor is attracting his attention. My first HP fanfic, JK Rowling owns it all


Chapter 1

"Hey cutie, shouldn't someone as good looking as you not be alone?" Harry looked up from his drink, the amber liquid swirling merrily, to see the person who had said this.

He thought, when he entered the pub with hoodie pulled over his head with a coat collar up, that no one would take any notice of him. He had taken a quick look around, seen no one suspicious, had pulled his hood down, allowing his long black hair room to breathe. Having ordered his drink, and wiped his broken glasses, freeing them of condensation, he had sat at the bar, drinking the cool liquid until he heard this voice. He looked around, thinking it was just someone trying to attract attention from another of the people of the person in the bar, and saw the woman. She was incredibly beautiful, looking to be in her early twenties, bronzed skin, deep brown eyes, and amazing smile, showing a veritable field of teeth, all as white as snow. Her hair, as black as pitch, glittering with a dark brilliance, bobbing slightly as she walked. The figure hugging dress, and it was a hot figure harry noted, was as scarlet red as blood.

Harry looked back to his drink, thinking that the girl couldn't possibly be addressing him. That idea was blown out of the water when the woman sat down next to him, smiling that amazing smile as she did.

"You didn't answer my question." She said, that smile turning flirting.

"It could be that I am so boring, I drove everyone away." Harry answered, deadpan look in place, whilst raising an eyebrow. She laughed lightly as this, raising a hand to her mouth as she did.

"That could be it, in which case if I fall asleep please wake me up." She replied, laughing as she did, and Harry joined her. It felt like he hadn't laughed in years.

"Very funny. Might I ask your name?" He said, stuttering slightly, even after everything he had been through, he still felt slightly nervous around girls. But she seemed to like this for her smile widened.

"Kate, and you?" Harry looked at her.

"Harry, Harry Potter." He paused after speaking, but she didn't give any sign of the now familiar shock at his name. Inside he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well Harry, Harry Potter, why are you on your on? No girlfriend?" She asked, moving closer, and ever so softly resting her arm on his. Harry smiled at this nice kind gesture until he thought what answer he could give her. Eventually he answered.

"No girlfriend. I needed some time. I have to do something later on that needs to be done, for the greater good as it were. It's just," Harry said, struggling for words. "I can't really tell you anymore, but it's not what I want to be doing." Kate's face had turned sympathetic.

"Of course, I'd rather be here, with a certain pretty woman." He said, smirking as the smile quickly returned to Kate's face. She reached into a bad, which to Harry's shame he had not noticed, before drawing out a pen. Grabbing his hand, she wrote something across the top.

"If you change your mind," she whispered shyly, stroking his hand lightly before letting go. Harry looked at it, lamenting at the fact that he would never be able to call this number, before he felt something in his pocket. Reaching into it, he felt the burning gold galleon, which after hastily removing his hand from the pocket, meant that his time here was up. Removing some muggle money and placing it next to his now empty glass, he stood, and Kate stood as well.

"Well, it was very nice to meet you Kate, and hopefully next time, I won't be so boring." Kate smiled, a large smile at that, laughing slightly. Harry went to hug her, moving to the side to kiss her cheek. He had almost reached in when Kate, clearly had other ideas, for she darted in and touched her lips to his. He felt shock as first, but surrendered himself to her sweet tasting lips, as the moved against his, so soft. He could feel her chest, pushed against his, her arms slowly coming to rest on his around his shoulders. It seemed like eternity, but it must have only been minutes, when they broke apart, hands leaving the other.

"Well," Harry whispered, gasping slightly, blush rising on his skin. Kate, breathing deeper too, laughed.

"I really do hope you call." She said, as Harry stepped around her, walked to the door. Before he left, he glanced over his shoulder, and saw the minx of a woman had taken his seat, look at him, wink, and look back at the bar. Smiling to himself, he walked into the night. If she had tried to follow, she would have heard a small pop, like a cork from a bottle, and an empty street.

"Harry, what kept you?" Asked Hermione, as harry joined them. The warehouse, was kept bare, with small rickety seats and sleeping bags dispersed haphazardly around, but then they hadn't been occupying it for comfort. Since the return of Lord Voldemort, and the death of Dumbledore, they had been slowly but surely beaten back. Now, they were forced to scurry from shadow to shadow, hitting targets then melting back into the darkness. Now, the majority of the resistance were based out of London, but the small force that had been chosen by Sirius and Remus, the chosen leaders of 'the Marauders', had been based in this small warehouse, scoping out their target for the past few weeks.

"Sorry, got held up." Harry said, walking past her into the dingy room, as everyone moved to the centre of the room. The room, filled with murmurs of conversations, died as Sirius tapped impatiently against the board he was leant against.

"Right everyone, sentries are distracted, the prisoners are being shipped in, so we have to do it now. Everyone know their roles?" A few nods, but mainly determined looks sent back. Sirius nodded.

"Then let's go."

The house in question was completely ordinary. It was in a nice neighbourhood, the garden was not unkempt, and the family that lived there was perfectly friendly. Or had been, before they had mysteriously vanished. Now, the house was used for 'Government purposes'.

The guard outside blew into his hands, trying, in vain, to bring back some of the warmth. He had been posted out here since midday, and he was freezing. The road that the holding cells were in, was eerily quiet, the nightly mist setting in, surrounding the house. He moved on the spot, the cloak he had doing nothing to help preserve his already dwindling body heat. He started walking again, moving out from the overgrown garden, plants turning into potential enemies in the darkening sky. Although he had been told to keep a low profile, he loosed his wand, muttered a few words, and a light blossomed from the tip of the sculpted wood. Nocturnal creatures, hiding in the undergrowth shied away from the light, as he moved from the garden to the front of the slowly crumbling house. He was about to step onto the main road, when he felt a small prod in the small of his back.

"Before you do something stupid, like call for help, I would advise against it. Now, if you value something called life, tell me: how many people do you have guarding this place?" The guard was about to call out, when he felt a gloved hand encircling his throat. Gagging slightly at the pressure on his trachea, he struggled in vain before sagging.

"Ten," He muttered.

"Many thanks," The voice behind him said, and he felt the pressure vanish. He dropped down onto his knees drawing in great lung of air. He didn't hear the person step back slightly, or their wand rising. There was a flash of light, a wet sound. The guard whose neck had been sliced, handing together by tendon and skin, slumped forwards, a surprised look upon his face, as he proceeded to bleed all over the pavement.

"That was unduly messy." Came another voice. Harry agreed, but they couldn't afford any loose ends. Pressing the golden galleon, he moved it to his mouth. His friend, moving his bright ginger hair out from in front of his eyes, with what was left of his right hand, but that was nothing compared to his eyes. Gone was the laughter and merriment. After seeing his sister die in front of him, Ron Weasley's laughter had died with her.

"The guard outside is down, cut the power, and put the spell around the house." There was a loud snapping noise, and the lights went out in the house. At the same time, there was a shimmering in the air, as though the very air was thickening. Walking from where the corpse was continuing to nourish the weeds embedded in the pavement, they slowly walked to the front door, wands in clenched hands. Remus, scared and thin as always was waiting for them, finger on lips. That finger was replaced by three, counting down. Two. One. Remus placed his wand casually against the door, with Harry and Ron covering their faces. There was a muffled explosion, as the door was thrown off its hinges. Judging from the cries emanating from inside the house. Following Lupin into the house, wand raised, as the appearance of spells rocketing to and from wands.

Running forward, hair fanning out behind him, Harry jumped and fell, skidding slightly in the stone floor, almost hitting his head on a small metal table, fallen over in the enduring struggle. Popping his head out, he brought it down, curses surging past him, as Ron came crashing down next to him.

Hearing a shout from Remus, Harry saw him stagger slightly out of one of the side rooms, clutching his shoulder. Leaping out from behind the safety of the table, he shot a silver spell at the person moving out of the same room Lupin had just vacated. The man in question was thrown of his feet, hitting the doorframe with a sickening crunch, falling like a puppet lacking strings. He did not get up as harry moved to the doorway. He moved his head forward, affording himself a quick glance in, then just as quickly moving away as a curse sailed through, hitting the opposite wall, blowing a small hole there.

Casting a curse into the room, as Ron hurried to cover the other side of the door. Panting slightly, he locked eyes with Harry.

"Your turn, I believe." He said, with a whisper of a smile. Harry nodded, parting with a smile of his own, as an explosion rocked farther down the corridor, sending a dust cloud, carrying a hailstorm of splinters, shooting down the corridor. Ducking behind his arm, he stumbled slightly as the stings of the wood chippings hit his outstretched arm, dust settling in his tied back hair. Looking across the empty space, he saw Ron, still standing, although he had a long cut across his forehead, leaking blood, mingling with his hair. Harry could barely her anything, his ears ringing so loudly.

"Ron, you okay?" He shouted, over the now constant loud bangs and such emanating from the place the explosion started. Hopefully things are going better there, Harry thought, as the second team had obviously come under heavy fire. He nodded, coughing slightly, but not giving Harry time to dwell on it as he started hurling hexes into the room. In a lull of the spells Ron cast, Harry inserted himself into the Room, quickly jumping aside as a curse flew past him. Seeing the culprit, a gangly early twenty man, harry rushed towards him. The man panicked, sending a spell that surely would have hit him, but Harry lifter the man's arm with his own, sending the curse harmlessly into the ceiling. Completing the movement, his other arm moved, connecting with his face, letting a tooth fly free. Too late, Harry saw that there was a second person in the room, as he was lifted of his feet, and thrown across the room, falling to a jumbled heap, even as the man he had punched fell. The one of whom spell had hit harry, stalked forward, bearded face alive with malice, about to cast something, but Harry would never find out. Ron rushed in now, and his spell hit the man in the gut. The man gave a small pitying sigh, then keeled over. Silence, as though even the room was taking a breath to recover, in which Harry noticed the noises from the other parts of the houses had vanished too.

The man who had lost a tooth, was moaning on the ground, blood pouring from his broken lips, but was soon scrabbling backwards as Ron advanced on him.

"Wait, please," He begged, tears beginning to run down his acne ruined face. "Please, I won't tell anyone, I won't, please don't hurt me." Ron looked down at him with disgust, before waving his wand. The man jerked, blood cut off from the artery Ron had severed, and fell back against the wall, slowly slumping to the floor.

"No deal." Ron said, turning away. Walking over to Harry, he offered a hand, grabbing it, he got to his feet, dusting off his robes. The man was a nobody, was just one of the many people taken in by Voldemort, but those people, they were the ones who stood between them. This, Harry thought looking at the two bodies, was necessity. He turned around, and didn't look back as he walked out of the room.

Moving down the corridor, he heard talking in several rooms. Peering round several doorways, he saw not words or action of violence, but ones of kindness. This mission had been to rescue members of the Order, and Harry stood watching the friends and family reunited, he thought that it had been worth it. Barging past Harry, Ron entered the room, a smile finally returning to his face, as he greeted the friends once held captive, whilst Harry looked on from the door.

He heard someone move behind him, felt a rough hand upon his shoulder. He didn't need to look to see who it was.

"Family is why we will win." Came the deep voice of Sirius, looking down at him fondly, before moving back into the corridor.

"Everyone, let's cuddle and cry later." He barked, the Grimm in him emerging. People emerging from all rooms at his words. "For now, let's get the hell out of here." As shouts and laughter started, the people walked, albeit fast, to the front entrance. Once they were all outside, pooling out into the lightening street, Sirius glanced around before pointing his wand into cloud ridden sky. Muttering a word, a spell, of fire and gold, burst forth, shooting into the sky. It moved higher, shrinking slightly, before exploding in the sky. Out of the flames, burst a phoenix, flying and crying above the house they had just vacated. It had taken a long time for this spell to be borne, but was worth the effort.

"Let us go." Sirius said, and with a chorus of cracks and pops, the people turned in the air and vanished. The house, dust slowly rising from its interior, was the only sign that they had been there at all.

After escaping the uncomfortable clutches of disapparating, the cool interior of the warehouse greeted them, the newly freed people looking around the dimly lit room.

"Alright, people, rest up, we leave in two days." Sirius barked, moving to a door, leading of the main cavernous room. Harry stood there, turned around, but quickly turned around at the feelings of warmth radiated from the hugging, crying and shouting people. He saw Hermione, short bushy brown hair, hugging a now sobbing Seamus Finnigan, clutching at her, his sandy hair broken by scars pitted on his head. Ron was standing, whispering with the twins. As Harry made his way, following his godfather's footsteps, he thought back to how they were acting.

This war, which was what everyone here called it, for calling them the resistance would be too hard to say. The twins, who at Hogwarts had been so full of life and laughter, were taller versions of Ron, silent and serious, but that was war.

Ginny Weasely, whilst most certainly not the first casualty of war, her absence was keenly felt, and as they rescued more people, that scab would forever be ripped off. It had been during a party, one of their few moments that the all-consuming pressure of their situation was lifted. But the balloon of freedom they had created was blown apart by Voldemort's followers. Many people were killed, amongst them Ginny even as she protected Harry from curses. Even as they evaded the soldiers, she was hanging in his arms. There hadn't been much laughter since then.

Opening and closing the door, Harry turned into the small room. The once been office had been emptied of desk, replaced by sleeping bags, for both him and Sirius. He was currently sitting against the wall, upon his ripped blanket, deep in thought, but emerged from it as the door closed.

"Planning for the next mission?" Harry asked, falling onto his own blanket with a deep sigh. Sirius looked at him, then ran a hand through his unkempt black hair, banging his fist against the peeling wall behind him.

"We have a traitor, Harry. After so many things not adding up. For starters, the last party, that shouldn't have ever happened, they shouldn't have known. Now tonight, there should have been only half the number of guards today. The next place we hit, well we have to tell more people, because it's a larger target. But, we can't have a witch hunt, it would tear us apart. Being a leader, I can organise attacks, but I haven't the foggiest fucking idea what to do." Harry looked at his godfather, the strong leader, their strong leader, in his moment of weakness.

"Sirius, we need to do this, there is no other way. If this go, south, then at least we know that one of the people on that mission will be the traitor. We can't afford to start frisking people left right and centre." Sirius sighed, looking back at Harry, and he could see the weakness leaving him, replaced by his cold anger. The silence once again descended on the room. Turning away, settling down. He fell asleep, dreaming of a girl of orange, lying in his arms, drowning in a sea of red.

The morning came, the bright sunlight, piercing through the tiny window of the office. It slowly dripped down the wall, before falling down on Harry's peaceful face. Squinting as he returned from his nightmares. He sat up, rubbing his eyed as he did. Looking over, he saw the now expected empty bed of his Godfather. He always got up before the sun, far too on edge to waste time asleep. Getting up himself, he walked back into the warehouse. He saw Ron and Hermione, already up, holding hands and talking in hushed tones. Around them, the gentle breathes of people sleeping, enjoying their resting hours. As he neared, the couple broke off their talk, looking at him, faces turning to stone as he neared.

"Have you seen see Sirius?" He asked taking the spare chair next to them. They looked at him and together shook their heads.

"He goes far too early for the two of us." Hermione said, moving to rummage in her bag. Since they had to be on the move, every opportunity to locate and devour books of all shapes and sizes. As if to illustrate this, she pulled out a counter curse and jinx book, from which she had been schooling them both.

"Do both of you remember the last lot of curses?" She asked, flicking through the book. Ron turned, rolling his eyes to Harry, but giving Hermione, when she looked up, a kind smile, placating her.

"Better question to ask would be do both of you remember what to do today?" Harry asked, leaning forward as he did so. The question whipped the smile of Ron's face as fast as if it was made of wind, and Hermione looked up to give him a sharp look, full of reproach. After a few seconds, they both nodded, Ron grimacing slightly.

"Always hate tasting it though." Ron said, Harry smiling.

"Well it will be well worth it when we see the looks on their faces." Harry replied, losing some of his smile.

They sat there, as people slowly divesting themselves of their blankets. But slower among them were not given that luxury for Sirius accompanied by Lupin Tonks and Kingsley, walked through the door from the outside, shouting for the rest to get up. Looking around at the faces of everyone, they mirrored his two friends: determined but a rational side, rooted in fear.

After a hastily eaten breakfast of sandwiches and water, they broke off into their teams. Harry, Ron and Hermione was grouped with Seamus, Tonks with her hair colour choice today of deep blue, and Kingsley. The aged dark skinned man, with kind eyes that were currently creased in worry, as their plan was discussed, to so much depth that he eventually interrupted in his deep, rich voice. Looking at their group, he saw steely determination, but saw fear and something more in Seamus' eyes.

"You okay, Seamus?" Harry asked, quietly as Kinsley beckoned them all round, Seamus jumping at his question. Nodding tensely at this, he looked barely able to form thoughts through nerves.

"We could talk about this all day, but eventually we will have to put words into action. Now," He said directing this at the younger members, Seamus' hand trembling with nerves or anger Harry couldn't tell. "You three, if anything goes wrong, stick to us. If anything happens to me, Tonks will get you out of there, and vice versa." They looked across to Tonks, who nodded, showing how fiercely protective she had become.

"Right," He said, looking at Sirius, who was currently in the midst of marshalling everyone else, but caught Kingsley's eyes, and shouted for quiet. Looking around at everyone, he could see how much more nervous the people Harry was betting his life with.

"Everyone, the first team is headed off. Set your watches at three minutes past eight. Okay, three, two, one and now!" A chorus of clicks answered his words. "Everyone be on your guard, and good luck."

The street was in the midst of a heat wave, the large houses on both sides of the close, with open windows, trying to steal a non-existent breeze. Children, will all manner of muggle toys, squealing as they played with hoses or water guns. The adults stayed indoors, apart from six. They were dressed in dark cloaks, despite the stifling heat. They were watching. Waiting. They had been out here for hours, waiting.

"Merlin, I'm fucking bored." The youngest of the group complained. The oldest of the six, behind a salt and pepper beard, looked at him. Amos Diggory hated this. He had not wanted this, he had wanted a better world. But he was forced, by circumstances, by threats of his young baby daughter to comply. The third man, not as young, laughed at this, whilst the last of the four looked slightly bored, not by the lack of activity, but by the conversation itself, turning away, pipe in hand. The other two didn't talk, mutely stupid that they were. But they followed Voldemort, albeit blindly, so they were able to progress of the ladder of his own choosing.

"Pay attention. Idiot. "Amos chided, scowling as noise invaded his senses. He turned his head, and saw a group of children, as young as ten and as many as six, running around each other with a football between them, moving into the close. There were two girls, each lacking in skills, surrounded by the four boys. But, they were enjoying themselves, Amos could see that plainly. He was about to remove his wand from the portion of his sleeve that contained his wand, and turn away from the fun, when he hears a thud, and a wail. Whipping around, he saw one of the girls, her hair a violent shade of blue, had fallen over near their seats, and had started to cry. Amos started walking.

"Amos, what the fuck are you doing?" He turned to the man, currently lighting his pipe, as he looked at Amos. Amos, in turn, scowled at the man. He had never had a child, he would never know. Approaching her, he looked at the other children gathered round her, and thought he caught a flicker of recognition in one of the boys, but it disappeared just as quickly. He crouched low, placing a hand on the crying child's shoulder.

"Are you okay child?" He asked, in a kind voice. The child looked up at him, strangely mature eyes, but, as Amos realised with curiosity, no tears descending from her eyes.

"I'm sorry it has come to this Amos," The girl said, withdrawing a piece of wood from her sleeve. Realising far too late what it was, it was definitely far too late for him to defend himself as he the wand pointed at his face. There was a flash, a burst of pain, and then nothing.

As Amos Diggory fell to the ground, blood erupting from the wound caused by Tonks, all of the other five children withdrew their wands, moving for cover, as the soldiers of Voldemort stood in shock. But, as Harry started moving out from behind the car, one of the men, throwing a smoking pipe to the floor, spilling ash, he whipped out his wand, and threw a curse at Harry, and Ron who were using a car as cover. Trying to move away from the car, but the curse got there faster, hitting the car. The explosion was immediate, a fiery ball being born moving out in a fiery blanket of Hell's own fury. Ron was far enough away to only be pushed to the ground by it, but Harry was not so lucky. He flew through the air, smashing into a wooden fence, splintering it like kindling, falling to the paved ground, his back scarping along the floor.

His ear were ringing, eyes blurring, the only thing he could hold on to was the warm sculpted wood of his wand. He could feel the polyjuice potion wearing off, slowly changing back to his own body, but he was blind to the feelings of that. Suddenly he felt finger on his arm. Looking down he saw mutilated hand wrapping around his arm. Knowing who it was, he let Ron drag him upright. He could the multitude of spells flying over the short expanse of land, of every hue imaginable. His hearing slowly came back as Ron was shouting to him

"…. Provide distraction Harry!" He shouted, pointing at a low brick wall situated further down the road. Harry nodded, heaving himself up. Shaking his head, he began to run to the wall. Turning his head he saw one of the death eaters emerge from behind the now desecrated wooden table. Spinning and dropping to his knees, holding his wands in two hands. The spell hit him in the face, a frozen look of shock displayed on his face, as he crumpled to the floor. The silence following this, was disrupted by the crackling of burning metal and heavy breathing.

"Everyone Okay?" Harry shouted. Thankfully, all of his friends emerged. Everyone looked fine, but Tonks was holding her right leg, wincing as she did so. All of them had reverted

"Kingsley?" Harry asked, and Kingsley moved away from a wall, on the other side of the street.

"One of the buggers escaped," Kingsley said moving to the building, wand gripped tightly. Glancing at his watch he looked back at the others. "The other groups should be here already." He said, glancing around, but still moving forward. Worry was gnawing at him, at the absence of the others.

The house was cold. Cold and dark, their wands the only light in the darkness, as they waded through the dimly light corridor. The peeling wallpaper, revealed dark stains on the crumbling plaster of the walls, that best not be identified as the moved as a pack through, with Kingsley taking point, and Seamus' taking the rear. They reached the landing, and pooled into the area, wondering where to go from here. But the question was taking on the wind, as they heard a cry from the lower floor, a cry of pain. Kingsley looked at the floor, thinking. Eventually he nodded, looking back, and holding up two fingers.

Moving down the stairs, they slowly moved to be in pairs; Kingsley and Seamus as he moved to the front, Ron with Tonks and Hermione moving with Harry at the end of their procession. A dimly light lightbulb marked the entrance darkness on either side, as they reached the end of the stairs. Again the cry rang throughout the storey. Moving in the direction, Harry saw all dark rooms, rotting doors hanging of rusting frames. The cry abruptly cut off, upon reaching the last door, the one door pushed to. Kingsley, his auror training kicking in, indicated for Harry and Hermione to enter, whilst the others kept vigilance over the area.

He glanced at his partner, her face alive in determination, but he noted fear. They were not supposed to be alone, the rest of the people were supposed to be with them. But there were supposed to be far more people, and it was the that made Harry reciprocate her feelings, even as they stood on both side of the door. Harry breathed, in and out. In and out. He moved, kicking the door away, wand pointing into the room. The room was empty, save for a person, crumpled in the corner, shaking with what looked like sobs. Harry glance at Hermione, who mirrored his looks of suspicion. Moving forward, he placed a hand on the person. Flinching, she shrieked, trying in vain to move further into the corner. Harry, with a shiver of disgust, saw Lavender Brown, scared and scarred, face streaked with dirt and tears.

"Harry, please," she sobbed, clutching at his arm as if it was a lifeline. Her fear chilled Harry more than any person could.

"It's alright Lavender, you're safe now." He said, glancing back as Hermione moved to the door.

"No, you don't understand," She said, coughing slightly.

"Harry." Kingsley called, from outside. Harry sensed something, a prickle of something shooting up his spine, as Lavender, looked him in the eyes, brown to green.

"Run." Her voice little more than a whisper. As she finished this, there was a shocked shout from outside.

"Shit!" Harry cursed, sprinting for the door, Hermione in his wake. The corridor was ablaze with light. Every doorway, so abandoned before, was filled with a death eater, mask filled with hate, as they sent curses down the corridor. Kingsley, courageous man that he was, was moving his arm as fast as possible, deflecting the spells every which direction. Kingsley was trying to move forwards, as they need to get to the stairs

"Run, Tonks get them out!" He yelled, forced to move back, under the sheer number of spells. His robes were torn, revealing bare skin, as spells continued to bare down on him.

"Move!" Tonks yelled, hurling spells, striding forwards to help Kingsley. Harry moved back into the room and, with the help of Ron, gathered Lavender between them. Running out into the corridor, they ducked as a spell ripped through the doorway, destroying the door. Moving forward, dodging their companions throwing curses, at the Death eaters. Harry saw one topple over, their chest a bloody mess, but to his dismay another quickly took their place.

As they reached the stairs, Kingsley fell to the floor, crying out as his arm twisted. Grunting slightly he slowly stood back up.

"Run, Tonks get them out!" He yelled, forced to move back, under the sheer number of spells. His robes were torn, revealing bare skin, as spells continued to bare down on him. As they ran up the stairs, stumbling in their haste, Harry looked back. He saw Kingsley Shacklebolt, auror and hero, bloody and broken, still firing spells as death eaters surrounded him. Swallowing down emotion at his sacrifice, he raced after his friends.

Sprinting along the corridor, muscles aching with the strain of running whilst supporting Lavender, he looked back at hearing a scream from downstairs, drowned out by guttural collective cheer. Gritting his teeth, he picked up the pace, Ron of a similar mind as the first sign of black was seen behind them on this level. Ahead of them the others were running, distance between them growing as they struggled under Lavender's weight. As the three in front reached the entrance of the building, there was an explosion, between Harry and safety. Stepping out from the wreckage of the wall, the one guard who had got away, face twisted in murderous rage, along with another man, face covered with a mask.

"Go!" Harry shouted to the others, as the shouts grew louder behind them. They hesitated, but Tonks, being the most used to danger, grabbed them and forced them to move. Harry looked to Ron, smirking slightly as he did so.

"A butterbeer on the quickest?" Ron smirked in return, nodding. They slowly lowered Lavender to the ground as the men advanced. Harry raised his wand even as his opponent raised his own. Sending his own spell flying, he deflected the oncoming spell into the wall. In the corner of the eye, he could see Ron fighting his one enemy. He continued throwing spells, but couldn't move forward, protecting his incapacitated friend as he was. But he had a few tricks up his sleeves. He left a deflection of a spell later then he normally would hitting him in the shoulder, stumbling backwards, and turning as he did so. His enemy with a roar of triumph moved forwards only to freeze. He looked puzzled, looking down at the gaping hole in his chest. Harry turned, a smoking wand gripped in his other hand as he stood, pointing both as Ron's opponent. The man was flung of his feet, landing in a crumpled pile. Panting slightly he turned to Ron.

"Don't worry, I like it warm or cold." He said, smirking slightly, before hearing the people behind them. "But that will have to wait."

He started moving, but stopped wincing at his shoulder. Examining it, he saw the spell had shot straight through the cloak exposing the red, raw flesh underneath. He moved again, trying to help Lavender to her feet, again the pain shot up, forcing him to relinquish his grip on her.

"Ron, take her and follow the others." Harry grimaced, as he turned to see their pursuers reach the top of the stairs onto their level.

"Harry, what…" Ron started, but Harry cut across him. "Listen mate, they won't kill me, Voldemort wants to have that pleasure. We can't disparate, they would have thought of that, so you need to get out of here. For Ginny." Ron looked at him, nodded, and then picked up lavender, throwing the protesting girl over his shoulder, moving towards the door, towards the blue sky.

Harry sighed, turning back to the death eaters, whose faces gave nothing away as they closed in. Harry raised both wands, wincing as his shoulder protested. As they descended upon him, he twirled between them, cursing one, ducking him around and then cursing another. He was running on pure adrenalin as he fought the men. As he tried to dodge a spell, he moved into the path of another. He flew back, rolling and coming to a stop facing the door. Coughing blood, he saw through tears, that Ron and Lavender had reached the edge of the property, and were turning into space. Turning onto his back, he directed both words at the ceiling.

"Reducto!" He croaked, and the ceiling exploded, burying the nearest death eaters, their screams drowned amidst the crashes of falling furniture. The wood, had formed a pile, blocking the corridor. He slowly got to his feet, crying out in pain, and began to amble towards the door. Every nerve in him was screaming in pain, but all that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other. The banging from the other side, only sped him up, despite the protests from his body.

He moved through the door, the sunlight blinding up. He looked upon the war zone, with bodies spread-eagled on the ground amidst rubble and debris. The car that had exploded was now a twisted skeleton of metal and rubber, still burning.

He got to the edge of the yard, and turned around, upon hearing a crash. As he turned into the space needed to disapparate, he saw a curse flying from a man, held by a man, face bloody and bruised. The spell hit him, and the pain swept through him, consumed him. He was swept into the space, and then blackness.


End file.
